


Ghost Choir

by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)



Series: Modern-Day Coffee Shop (WRFtD) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Asking Out, Blind Character, Coffee Shops, Disabled Character of Color, F/F, Fluff, Fluff Bingo!, M/M, Original Character(s), Pining, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24590962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: “You know, Cai,” Diana purrs with all the knowing grace of a cat that’s pinned a mouse’s tail between its teeth: elbows out, arms crossed over the quartz counter, and one of her giant loop earrings pinched between her fingers, “I don’t think he comes here for the coffee.”
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Modern-Day Coffee Shop (WRFtD) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680925
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9
Collections: Writing Squad Fluff Bingo





	Ghost Choir

“You know, Cai,” Diana purrs with all the knowing grace of a cat that’s pinned a mouse’s tail between its teeth: elbows out, arms crossed over the quartz counter, and one of her giant loop earrings pinched between her fingers, “I don’t think he comes here for the coffee.”

“Who?” Mordecai whirls a small mountain of house-made whipped cream that he’s actually pretty proud of.

“Bastard. Stop playing dumb. He’s not going to be in the bathroom forever.” 

Mordecai pinches the lid of the frappuccino into place along the rim of the plastic cup and sets it on the barrel next to the counter’s edge. “Frapp for Malik!” he calls and looks out over the booths in time to see a dark head jerk up in response.

He waves aside the man’s thanks and grabs the rag over his shoulder. With quick, jerky strokes, he wipes up the fallen drips along the counter’s edge and moves on to make the next order. 

“You’re ignoring me.”

“Only because you’re insinuating preposterous things.”

“Preposterous things…” Diana repeats with a scoff and leans back against the opposite counter as Soewati squeezes between them. Her brown hand snatches a scone off the wide tray of freshly baked goods, despite her girlfriend’s scoff and teasing glare. 

“Diana,” Soewati scolds.

“Soewati.”

Mordecai rolls his eyes loud enough to be heard across the street and Diana leans forward as soon as she sees the black ponytail of the man of the hour swing. He approaches his usual spot on the stool in front of the glass separating baristas from customers. Mordecai also very pointedly ignores the look Diana sends his way and turns to place the next order on the barrel-top. “Order for Sirpa!”

“Hey, can I get a refill?” 

It’s cruel the way Diana tip-toes around Mordecai’s back, blackberry scone hilariously sticking out from between her teeth. She slaps Mordecai's hands away as he tries to reach for the cup for the next and final order and snatches it up herself, bumping him with her hip so he stumbles a few spaces to the left.

Right in front of Endric himself.

Endric raises an eyebrow, cup dangling from the fingers of his left hand. “Well?”

“Yeah.” Mordecai clears his throat and hates, _hates,_ the way his face heats up. It’s fine. It’s fine. Diana’s being stupid, but it’s fine, and there’s no way Endric does not come here to get his daily sugar-caffeine fill and daily cup of whipped cream for the giant labradoodle curled around the base of his stool. “I got you, Endric.”

Is he making up the way Endric’s tan face rosies after he talks? He’s got to be, right? Diana put the silly idea into his head; now he’s seeing things. 

Endric clears his throat. It’s a weak echo of his own. “Appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” 

The motions for Endric’s extra-syrup and seven-packs-of-sugar zebra mocha are familiar by this point. Endric may have the sweetest tooth of any fucking person that has ever walked through the _Gemini’s_ cafe shop doors, but Mordecai knows better than to tease the him over it. Last time, he got an ear-full about the bullshit acidity of bitter things and why are coffee and wine like that and, “Speaking of which, why is there an association between maturity and tasteless things?” and, “No, I’ll tell you why, because being mature _is_ tasteless,” and last time, Diana of all people seemed impressed and the last thing Mordecai needs is for his boss to have any more encouragement to not act her thirty-five years.

“So what’s on the Saturday schedule for Endric Inuusuttoq?” Mordecai asks. He presses down the white lid around the rim and sets the cup in front of Endric with a verbal, “Here.”

Endric reaches up and finds the front-facing gap in the lid on his first try. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

But as Mordecai pulls off the towel over his shoulder to wring his hands and give them _something_ to do during the lull of post-morning rush so they don’t lie there uselessly, probably shaking, because Endric is in front of him and he knows Diana and Soewati are watching. Because of course they are. Because he’s the youngest out of all the _Gemini’s_ staff and they think his love-life is a midmorning soap opera--

“--actually, the only thing I had on schedule was coming here.”

“Oh, really?” Mordecai pushes aside the thought that instantly rises: the hopeful, puppy-dog-like, _To see me? That’s all you wanted to do on a Saturday? See little old me?_ “Just hangin’ out, I guess?” he asks instead.

“Yeah.” Endric clears his throat. Again. And something in the sound makes Mordecai’s heart flap pathetically against the front of his chest. 

He realizes, belatedly, Endric hasn’t taken a sip of his coffee yet. Instead, his finger lazily traces the rim. 

“Wanted to ask you somethin’,” Endric mumbles.

And it’s _stupidly telling_ the way the glass display case to his right has been shut and Soewati’s tray has been empty for several minutes now and yet she _still hasn’t moved_ from where she stands two steps next to him, idly fiddling with the candy bars and wrapped brownies and gum packs that crown its top, wrapped in fake vines and sunflowers.

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Finally, Endric wraps his hand around his coffee cup. “Would you wanna…I don’t know. Go out? Sometime?”

Something falls with a cacophonous _crash_ and it’s the first thing Mordecai registers outside of his own buzzing nerves. Somehow, it feels like reality’s been altered. All he can hear after Soewati’s steel tray clangs against the floor is Soewati herself cursing. Endric jumps, also swearing up a storm as coffee splashes up from his cup and onto his hand. His one hand. His only hand.

Well, shit. They can’t have that.

There are a million and one things to respond to but all Mordecai needs to see is Soewati waving both hands at him, waving him _away_ from her in a silent, _I’ve got this,_ and he turns to Endric, yanking napkins out of the nearest dispenser recklessly.

“Here!” he says. “I’ve got you. You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Shit.” 

And then he’s holding Endric’s hand in both of his and sure, there’s a bunch of recycled, eco-friendly brown napkins between them, but Endric’s hand is still warm. Weathered and rough. It’s strong.

_Oh yeah. He used to be an athlete before…_

Mordecai doesn’t know why that, in turn, makes him warm, too.

“Uh.” Endric isn’t one to mince words. He takes in the settle of stunned silence and immediately, his nose twists. “Well, shit. Damn. I know I don’t look that great, but if I turn you off that much--”

_“What?!”_

There are two other shrill voices overlapping his own, which confirms for Mordecai exactly what he already knew about their current level of privacy and the two-person ghost choir at his back.

Mordecai turns his head around in the fastest, quickest glare of his life. Soewati ducks her wrapped head until he can’t see her face anymore except for the top of her beige hijab and Diana puts up her own hand in front of her cheek, turning away. He spins back to Endric. When Endric tries to pull his hand away, mouth still twisted in something that’s painful to see, Mordecai tugs it back, guarding that hand close.

“No! No, that wasn’t me. That was Soewati.”

“What?”

“She was loading the display case. The tray fell.”

“Oh.”

Mordecai swallows. Are his hands shaking? Damn, traitorous things. He wonders if Endric can tell; if he can feel the tiny tremors from how tightly he traps his fingers. “It doesn’t turn me off. _You_ don’t turn me off.”

Endric stills. Then, very slowly, he asks, “Oh?”

“Yeah.” A small smile twitches across Mordecai’s face. He feels breathless, all of a sudden. And stupid. Which is not something normally he likes to feel, but it feels _wondrous_ and _exciting_ and _thrilling_ now. “To answer your question, yes. I’d…actually be extremely honored to go out with you some time.”

If it wasn’t before, Endric’s face is definitely rosy, now. The pinkening of his soft brown face starts high on his brow and swings down to wrap around his round cheeks. There’s a twitch of a smile on his face, but it’s schooled away just as quickly. Bitten back. “Nice.”

Diana snorts, then pushes herself out from behind the counter to hurry to the bathroom. Mordecai can hear her laughing and knows exactly why.

Because he, himself, is laughing a little, too. “Nice? That’s--that’s all you have to say?”

“W-well it _is_ nice, isn’t it?” Endric huffs and withdraws his hand as Mordecai bows his head and laughs again. Half-coffee-stained napkins flutter to the counter between them; some are completely dry. “I’ve just scored a date. That’s nice. Awesome, even. I don’t know why you’re laughing at me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mordecai’s shoulders still shake, though. “I’m off at seven today. The mid-shift. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah.” Endric’s grin is wide and toothy; it lights up Mordecai’s whole world. “Sounds great.”

He still hasn’t taken a single sip of the coffee now cooling at his elbow.

**Author's Note:**

> the labradoodle's name is Terminator 3000 btw bc endric's Like That
> 
> hope u enjoyed!! these dorks are all mine from my serialized novel, what rises from the depths. if you like 'em, pop on over on my [tw](https://twitter.com/krisseywrites)
> 
> also yes, i wrote this while pretty much looping "ghost choir" by louie zong over and over and over again
> 
> thanks for reading!!


End file.
